


What You'll Do

by Skullfuggery (OverwatchingYouSleep)



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Betrayal, Blood Kink, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Cuckolding, Deepthroating, Exposition, F/M, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, Jealousy, Minor Violence, Multi, Never thought I'd be using that tag but here we are, Oral Sex, Ownership, Porn With Plot, Possessive Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Michael AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:24:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverwatchingYouSleep/pseuds/Skullfuggery
Summary: “Don’t start screaming,” he called out, holding up his hands to show he was unarmed. “I’m just here to extend an offer.”--Reader learns about her secret admirer under the worst possible circumstances.





	What You'll Do

**Author's Note:**

> _Michael starts with his 3 unique perks:_  
>     
>  _Steadfast: You never seem to lose your drive to keep going. The exhaustion status effect cooldown is reduced by 10%/15%/25%. You also recover from exhaustion while running at a rate of 50% the default cooldown._
> 
> _Observer: You’re emboldened by pulling off risky maneuvers undetected. For every 30 seconds spent inside the Killer’s terror radius gain a token, up to a maximum of 2/3/4 tokens. Upon finishing a generator 1 token will be consumed, and you gain 25% bonus bloodpoints at the end of the trial, up to a maximum of 100%._
> 
> _Don’t Bother: You never find yourself worried about the pain of others. At a penalty of 20%/20%/15% your altruistic action speed, gain 8%/12%/16% bonus action speed in the Objectives category. When within 5m/10m/15m of an injured survivor, objective action speed is increased by 10%/15%/20%._  
> 

Not for the first time since you arrived in this nightmare, you wanted to give up. Not give up on this trial, although the hook in your shoulder was convincing, but the idea of survival in general. The Entity was only getting stronger with each new survivor it bought into its fold. Nobody had any clue where to begin looking for a way out. This was the bleak reality you lived. Was there any reason to keep pressing forward except to die again?

You shut your eyes, drowning out the drizzle of rain that surrounded you in Mother's Dwelling. Of course there were. You could think of reasons. You had your family back home, still hoping you would come through the door again. Friends, some back in the real world and others you had made here socializing around the campfire, while you all waited to be thrown back into the lion's den.

David.

Your eyes snapped open, gauging the scream you heard in the distance. Your boyfriend had entered the trial with you, but you had gotten separated by a cloud of noxious gas almost immediately. When the group split up The Clown had gone straight for Nea, but he had no trouble tracking you down no matter how far you ran.

This killer was a wildcard. He switched up his method based entirely on which survivors he saw, what realm you were in, and most of all, his mood. You had already seen from the mori he had dropped in the offering bowl and the way he brutalized Nea that he had no intention of playing around this trial.

David had already been hooked once. That was the prerequisite for a Mori, you had come to learn, and you knew that he intended to murder you all. All the more reason to speed this up and let this Entity take you back to the campfire, your only respite in this whole hellscape. You kicked your legs forward, watching claws materialize out of the ether in weaving strings of glowing orange.

When the massive appendage reared back to pierce through your torso, two large hands pushed under your arms and pulled you forward off the hook. You looked down, but you didn't have to look far--your saviors face was several inches above yours, even before he placed your feet on the ground.

Michael gestured behind you, down a steep ledge and into a small maze of randomly placed brick walls. You nodded, and he slid down off of the hill, holding his arms out to catch you. In the distance, you heard another throaty scream and your heart lept into your throat. Not that this hadn't happened a thousand times before. But it had never gotten easy.

Swallowing back your hesitation, you let Michael catch you in his chest and carry you with quick strides behind a brick wall. You would have protested and ran alongside him, but the wound in your shoulder had gotten sore from your wiggling, and the idea of doing anything was already making it burn more. You were almost angry he had saved you.

He sat you beside him on the grass and crouched over you, hands gently hovering over your wound. Michael had never been very good at healing others. Even with supplies and lessons around the campfire he struggled, so you settled in for a long session of prodding and confusion.

To your surprise he skipped straight to it. He grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and ripped straight through it, producing a long strip of black fabric that he pulled away with a final tug and a barely noticeable grunt. His fingers brushed your hair away from the open wound, tucking it behind your ear with more gentleness than was necessary before he pulled your shirt aside and tucked the cloth right over the wound.

You shuddered and wheezed through your clenched teeth but he didn't prolong your suffering, hardly making sure the "bandage" was secure before wrapping his arm beneath yours and trying to lift you to your feet. You didn't follow his lead.

"Michael, I can't," you muttered, hand pressed over the already-bloody bandage. He knit his eyebrows together, tugged more insistently on your arm.

"I said I can't."

"Come on."

_"No."_

You thought you had heard something as you spoke that last word, but you didn't realize what it was until a lavender bottle went sailing through the window you were sitting beside, bathing you both in a healthy fog of sweet-smelling tonic. You threw your arm over your mouth and coughed, and Michael's hand fell away from you, allowing you to try and split up before he could catch you both.

But you weren't stupid. You knew you had been hooked already. The Clown's gloved hand snatching your wrist out of the cloud and pulling you back didn't surprise you in the least bit. Engraved steel pressed up against your neck, and though you looked you caught no trace of Michael through the haze before your throat was unceremoniously slit.

\--

There were a few moments of silent darkness before you came to at the campfire, the kind of quiet that made you aware of the blood rushing inside of your head. This world's process of recycling your body for the next trial every time you failed to survive. These moments the bond between you and your captor was clearest, through even this impenetrable gloom you were able to feel it just beyond, staring you down.

The blood rush grew louder, but not by much. A symbol to how little you had accomplished in that trial, barely managing any work before you were chased and not putting up enough of a fight before you were caught. You could care less. For all the talk from the others about this ritual making you stronger, more prepared for the next trial ahead, you didn't feel the difference. You were still slated to die in an endless loop regardless of your performance.

An unholy gurgle, and you materialized once again, taking in a sharp breath like it was your first. Around you sat your fellow survivors, their attention momentarily brought to you before returning to what they were doing. All except for one.

"Babe." You turned to the left and there was David, already making his way over to you. You stood up in time to be enveloped in a strong hug, your arms flying around each other and squeezing with enough force to break each other's backs. "Did you make it out?"

"No," you sighed, finding rare comfort in the warmth of his chest. "But Michael still might."

David bristled at the man's name, making you smirk into his jacket. David had been the biggest guy on the team before Michael showed up, and that was one thing that you knew griped his ass. But he also got the idea somehow that Michael had a crush on you, something that you had to laugh at. David acted as though he was way too mature to act on jealousy, but it didn't stop him from puffing his chest out whenever he felt he needed to prove himself. It was just so...normal compared to everything else that you couldn't help but find it adorable.

Besides, the only person you saw Michael act any different around was his little sister. You still remember the pit you felt in your stomach when you were introduced, briefly jealous that they had each other to pull through before realizing the unique hell that was watching your family die over and over again. You couldn't blame them for being up each other's ass any trial they shared.

Finally parting from the hug you looked at Laurie, quietly reading from what looked like a heavy folder. Most of you were in your twenties, but at 17 Laurie was tied for the youngest here, along with Quentin. Of all the people here that didn't deserve to be, you couldn't help but feel the worst for them.

You looked back at David, exchanging his worried look with a tired smile. "I'm fine, he didn't drag it out or anything. But--" You gestured with a tilt of your head at Laurie, "--do you mind if I unwind with someone else right now?"

David's eyes flicked over your shoulder and right back to you. "'Course I don't mind."

He kissed your forehead and pulled you into his arms one more time. Every act of affection from David was fatalistic, like this was the last time you would see each other. Here, that was unlikely. But you always hugged back with just as much ferocity, returned every squeeze and even swayed from side to side when it went on long enough.

Finally you broke away with your hands on both sides of his face. "Alright, alright, I'll come sit with you as soon as I'm done."

That was what finally seemed to satisfy him. He laid his hands over yours and leaned into your touch, turning to kiss the edge of your palm before you turned his head back to face you.

"Right." He held onto your hands for one moment longer before breaking away and heading to the other side of the campfire. Over that way you saw Ace and Jake in what looked like serious conversation. You turned and walked over to the log where Laurie sat, lowering yourself beside her.

"What're you reading?" She looked over at you, smiling through a gaunt and infinitely tired face.

"I got this from the hospital." It spoke to the state of the place that it took you a long moment to realize what realm she was talking about. "It's about experiments with shock therapy. Sound familiar?"

"That makes sense," you said with an involuntary shudder. One of your least favorite killers to go up against. "I was pretty sure that place was connected to him. What all does it say?"

She held out the folders contents for you to see, a collection between official forms and handwritten notes with occasional drawings to accompany them. It was on top of one of these notes that you caught a name, and you almost found yourself chuckle. "Is...is the Doctor's name Herman?"

"I think so," Laurie said, with a tone that suggested the same repressed laughter as you. You shuffled through the notes for a bit longer, noting interesting tidbits here and there before you let them come to rest in your lap.

"Can I ask you something?" She looked over at you, and again you were hit with just how exhausted she was, how aged she looked for still being a teenager.

"Go ahead," she told you. You rubbed your hands together in your lap. Your experience with other survivors suggested that this topic was typically considered off limits, but you were curious enough to try.

"What was your life like before all this?" To your surprise, her face didn't immediately fall. Instead she closed her eyes, her sigh heavy and somber as she thought about your question.

"It was my senior year at Haddonfield High." Eyes still closed, you watched her mind cycle through a long distant life. "I lived with my parents, and Michael was off at college. But he drove out after class just for Halloween night, like he always does."

"You got taken on Halloween?"

"Mhm."

"Shit."

Laurie laughed, one quick burst that cut painfully short. Her eyes opened and she started grabbing all the notes to put back together.

"Anyways, we were just suburban small town kids, nothing special about it," she said, "I was a babysitter and an honors student. That should tell you everything."

"It does," you admitted. You looked around the campfire, quietly mourning for each person you saw around it. A teacher, a detective, an old veteran, even Laurie wasn't the only honors student. And then your eyes landed on Michael.

He was already headed in your direction to sit next to Laurie like usual. His return from the trial was silent, not attracting the usual attention of everyone around. You were certain that he'd been caught, until you noticed his midriff still visible from his uneven hem. Michael had escaped.

He circled and sat on the ground on Laurie's opposite side, draping his arms over his knees and lowering his head. Laurie gave him a small pat on his shoulder before she turned back to you.

"What about you?" she asked, and you knew that would be coming. Fortunately you weren't so secretive about your past.

"Well--"

"Hey, guys?" Your attention was turned to the center of the group, where Jake stood right beside the fire. When everyone's eyes were on him, he continued. "We're all here."

Everyone glanced around, including you, and he was right. There was always one trial going on, sometimes two or three. The campfire has never looked this full.

"Is that a bad thing?" Nea asked. From across the fire you met eyes with David and flashed him a smile that he returned instantly.

"I'm just saying it's weird, since it never happens."

"He has a point." Tapp nodded, but he didn't seem any more worried about it then everyone else. As everyone slowly returned to their conversations, you excused yourself and quickly trotted over to where David sat, between a napping Bill and another conversation.

"Looks like he made it," you told him, sitting on the grass beside him. He shook his head, seemingly mystified.

"'Course ‘e did," he muttered, crossing his arms. You smiled and slid beneath his arm, tucking yourself into his heavy winter jacket with your head on his chest. With some clever maneuvering, he got his arm out of the sleeve and wrapped it around your shoulders instead.

"I think someone's going to be taken for a trial any minute," you said, holding onto his hand. "You think?”

“I think so,” he answered, both of you watching Jake sit back down with Ace. “Those two are real used to the routine. Doubt they ‘ppreciate the change.”

“Right.” You stared into the campfire, smokeless and bordering the line on artificial, even more than everything else in this realm. For a short while you sat in comfortable silence, your eyes fluttering shut and feeling something approaching content.

“You know,” David said after a long peaceful moment, “Sometimes--”

“Heads up!” You were shocked that the deep voice that belted out was Adam’s. You pulled yourself out of the jacket to follow where his eyes were focused, and instantly your heart sank. Not far from the campfire stood the barrier that split the killers away from the survivors.

On your side of that barrier stood the Trapper.

“Don’t start screaming,” he called out, holding up his hands to show he was unarmed. “I’m just here to extend an offer.”

Nobody took the bait. He took a couple steps closer, the fire’s light flickering over his misshapen mask. “The Entity has a deal for anyone willing to take it.”

Feng Min was the first to speak up. “What is it?”

“A chance to get out of here.” And despite everything, he had the attention of every person around the fire. Escape. Freedom. The thing you all continued to hold out hope for despite everything. The Trapper took a long look over his audience, savoring the hope before he continued.

“For any survivor willing to turn the knife on their friends, that is.” He started cracking his knuckles, smile clear in his voice. “For one trial the Entity will make you a Killer. Nail all four survivors, and you’re free to go.”

The air around the campfire was suddenly unbearably thick. Friends exchanged glances. Hands were held and squeezed. The Trapper, beneath his mask, grinned.

“Here’s the catch: Those survivors you kill? They don’t come back.” In a realm of death, those words of finality struck even more fear in everyone’s heart. “So there’s no sucking it up for one match and leaving them behind. You want out of here? You got blood on your hands.”

Nobody would do that, right? There was a reason you were survivors and not killers, and even the temptation of freedom wasn’t worth killing four people. Right? Right? Nobody was moving to accept. Maybe nobody would.

“No takers?” the Trapper questioned, looking from face to face. “Come on, at least one of you is thinking about it.”

Again, no response. Looking at the killer you almost felt a sense of triumph. Proving that being a ruthless monster wasn’t in everybody’s hearts, that you’re good people and not psychopaths like he was. Then you heard the words out of his mouth, overlaid with an outburst from David.

“And there it is.”

“Oh **HELL** no!”

All eyes fell on a lone standing figure. His hands were clenched at his sides, face hidden behind light blond hair. Behind him, you watched his sister break down into tears. Silence overtook the group as the revelation sank in. Then, the group burst out into a blend of voices.

“Michael, what the hell?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“You can’t do this!”

“Are you really going to do us like this Michael?”

Nowhere in the cacophony was your voice heard. You just watched Michael stand there, the verbal abuse sliding off his back like water. David stepped forward, rearing his arm back and instantly you recognized his intent to fight. You opened your mouth to stop him, but no sound came out.

David’s fist collided with Michael’s stomach. Michael grunted, but he had a grip on David’s arm in the same instant, placing a hand flat on his chest and shoving him backwards. David narrowly missed the campfire and fell into your open arms, furious gaze still leveled on Michael’s uncaring face.

“Michael…” Jane had her arms wrapped around Laurie, but there was no stopping her onslaught of tears. Michael didn’t even turn to face her.

“Well, come on over!” The only merry voice present, the Trapper turned and started to walk back to the killer’s domain, Michael in slow pursuit. Nobody else rose to challenge him, and together you all watched him step over the barrier and out of sight.

\--

Words were being exchanged in hushed voices over the campfire. You had excused yourself from the conversation, wandering just in earshot until you finally came to a stop at the curtain between killers and survivors, sprouting from the ground halfway between their campfire and yours. Your stomach had been turning circles nonstop, so you hugged your arms to your body, leaned against the barrier for support.

"I knew that shit was fishy."

"Is now really the time for ‘I told you so's Jake?"

Through cracks in the Entity's web you saw the killers surrounding their fire, including the newest member to their fold. Michael held a pristine kitchen knife in one hand, inspecting the blade with interest while the Trapper stood beside him in what looked like an expressive rant. Learning the tools of the trade, you imagined.

"Do you have any idea why he'd do this?"

"No...not at all."

There was a mixed reaction among the other killers. Some looked delighted to see him, others less so, but most simply paid no attention, as though this was nothing new to them. Only the Trapper and Doctor looked truly excited, interested in the concept of a survivor turned killer.

"I'm 'onna take one of those 'atchets out of the damn closet and sack 'im, 's what I'm gonna do."

"I understand you're upset David, but--"

"I'm more ‘n upset!"

You hugged yourself tighter, wishing the fire could provide you any sort of warmth. The Trapper clapped Mikey on the back of his shoulder like a proud father. Through even the crooked grin of his mask, the energy radiated. Michael on the other hand, he was unmoved by the Trapper's praise, or even his instructions. To your eyes he was enraptured with the knife, turning it over and over again to admire the stainless steel, or maybe his reflection in the blade.

"So, who do you think's going to be in the trial?"

Michael’s head jerked to the side unprompted, and your eyes met. With a choked sob, you broke away from the barrier.

"I don't know," Adam responded, eyes barely glossing over you as you returned to the circle. You bee-lined for David and sidled up to him, his arm moving to envelop you instantly. “But every one of us needs to be ready.”

There were no objections to that statement. The campfire became a flurry of activity as your fellow survivors readied their best items, exchanged advice, stretched out their tired muscles. Only you and David stood still amidst the haste, holding on to one another.

“Do you think…” you swallowed, unsure how your next words would be taken. “Do you think this is the Entity’s way of giving us an…’out’ too?”

David bristled next to you, his tone curt. “How d’you mean?”

“Like, a permanent...not dying and then waking up to die another day, you know?” David shook his head, pulling away just far enough to seize you by your upper arms.

“Listen, I can’t have you thinkin’ like that,” he told you, his eyes burning holes through yours. Even his accent had lost it’s lazy inflection. “If you get picked for this trial, and I hope to God you won’t, I need you to give it everything. Everything--” he gave you a small shake, “--you have. Understand me?”

It was then, finally, that the tears came. It was so sudden and overwhelming, the dam within you giving under the distress and allowing everything to pour out in an unstoppable flood. Lips wobbling, you dove into David’s chest, letting him once again hold you close while you openly wept.

“I’m so tired,” you said.

“I know,” was his reply.

At some point you grew too weary to stand, letting him recline with you on the ground close to the fire. You knew your sobs weren’t going unnoticed, but to everyone’s credit they left the both of you alone for as long as it took you to let the pain out. David said nothing more either, save for the occasional “Shhh.”

You had no doubt in your mind that Michael would succeed. He would have the strength and supernatural abilities of a killer, combined with the insider knowledge of a survivor. You didn’t have much hope for anybody who would be so unlucky to be chosen. The death would be painful like the others, but it would be final, and it would end the misery in this realm. You couldn’t be sure if this was a boon or a punishment, because punishment would never have sounded so tempting.

But where you would suffer the great unknown, Michael would be rewarded with freedom. Would he go back to a normal life, keeping the blood of 4 friends on his hands a secret for the rest of his life? Or would this change him, cause him to go back into the world and continue his violence on the outside?

Whatever it was, you thought with a bitter sob, you hoped the guilt would eat him alive.

The pull came some time later, forcing you to finally separate from your boyfriend so you both could stand. You hadn’t been preparing like the others, so you just grabbed the best medkit you had and stuffed some of miscellaneous supplies inside. You took a glance to your left, and David was chaining a blood amber to the end of an intricate key and wrapping it in prayer beads.

Like any other trial, it began with the roar of the campfire. Survivors trudged forward from their places into a circle surrounding the blaze, eyes furtively glancing from one nervous face to another. You and David stood together, free hands locked tightly as though either one of you could hold the other back from being dragged away.

“I just want you guys to know,” Dwight spoke, hands nervously fiddling in front of him, “Despite...everything, I’m glad I met you. I just wish--”

“It could’ve been under better circumstances?” Feng Min offered, her mouth curled in a characteristic ghost of a smirk. Dwight smiled, a true smile, so rare in this realm. The exchange made your heart swell with warmth.

“Yeah.”

The flame roared again, and there was no mistake: You felt its pull. It brought a flurry of mixed emotions, dread and relief, mixed with a morbid content. You squeezed David’s hand, your shared signal, and he met you with eyes full of fear.

“You too?”

\----

The passage between the campfire and the trial was a strange half-dimension in and of itself, consisting of nothing more than a clearing amidst an impenetrable forest, centered by a shallow bowl atop a pedestal. In this bowl was another intangible fire, its blue flames spread over the surface, licking and sweltering but never burning. Awaiting your offerings.

You noticed him first, standing in the shadows at the opposite end of the clearing. He held the kitchen knife in his hands lazily, twirling it between his fingers as he eyed you down. From here it was difficult to make out details, but he looked similar to how he had just earlier. None of the monstrous modifications that made up the other killers; no detached, floating limbs or rebar puncturing his torso.

You tore your eyes away from him to take in your team, all to your left. Kate, David, and to your utmost horror, right next to you stood Laurie. Sweat beaded on her lips, her body stiff but her fists shaking hard enough to become blurs.

“Oh shit,” muttered Kate. Glances were exchanged, but somebody had to make the first move, and you decided it should be you. You walked forward over the dead grass, mentally combing through your possessions until you found a suitable offering, willing it to materialize in your hand. Coming an arm’s length away from the bowl, you extended your reach to drop in a chunk of white oak wood.

_Spread the hooks over a further distance._

You watched the flames greedily tear through the wood, reducing it to a pile of embers that soon melted into the fire. _Granted._

From just over your left shoulder, David reached forward and dropped in another. Once again it was taken by the fire. _Granted._

Kate stepped beside him and held out her arm, showing the offering to the both of you as if asking for an okay. You and David exchanged looks, but with a gradual nod of your head, she loosened her fingers and dropped in the distorted polaroid that would send you all to Mount Ormond.

This time, the flame showed a different, rare reaction. It’s low broil stretching over the bowl like liquid turned into a sudden blaze, flaring far above your heads and causing you all to step back even if the raging fire produced no heat. When it finally died down, the photo sat untouched in the center of the bowl.

_Denied._

One by one, you turned to look over your shoulders at Laurie. She was still rigid, unwilling to join you. David moved to grab her and you seized his wrist, shaking your head at him. “We can’t expect her to be up to this.”

David quickly got frustrated, putting his hand over yours. “Well, she’s gonna ‘ave to be.”

“I’ll protect her.”

“You’ll--” David sputtered, frantically looking between you and Laurie. “This shit’s a team effort, we’ve all got--”

He cut himself short, gaze trailing over your shoulder. Michael had stepped forward as well. The outfit he wore at the campfire was replaced with a pair of mechanic’s coveralls, his mane of blond hair more frazzled than usual and falling in front of his face. From his hand dropped a small metal key with an ineligible tag. The fire consumed it over the still pristine photograph.

You had the feeling that the same thought had just crossed all of your minds: _At least it wasn’t a mori._

“Well,” Kate said, grip tightening on her toolbox. “Are you guys ready?”

You scoffed. “Does it matter?”   
  
She opened her mouth, but no words came out before the clearing faded from in front of you. This transition always sent a wave of vertigo throughout your body, the disorientation making you unable to decipher how the Entity pieces the trial together. You see the blurs in front of you, the landscape sewing itself together but without the faculties to make sense of it.

The first thing you feel is the brisk chill of autumn. When your mind realigns with the rest of you, you’re surrounded by a realm you’ve never seen before. Standing directly between two suburban homes, in the opening of a white picket fence. Were it not for the crows perched in the trees and on the fence, it would have looked like a normal night in a normal neighborhood.

 _If every realm is connected to a killer,_ you wonder, drawing from your earlier chat with Laurie, _then this must be where Mikey grew up._

You turn to move towards the street, but quickly change your mind and turn towards the back of the houses. In the yard to your left is an intricate hook that resembled a streetlight, and on your side of the fence you find a shed and a generator tucked against the back patio. You quickly get to work, dropping your medkit by your feet and sliding your nimble fingers in the open-faced machine.

As your eyes cast glances around you, you slowly realized that this realm is unlike any other you've been to. It was something like Springwood, but most of that realm was dominated by the large school in the center, and the houses were small and sparsely decorated. As far as you could see, yard after yard spoke of a straight lane, houses lined up in a row and separated by a gravel road. On the sunflower yellow walls of the house next to you, a rhythmic red and blue flash pulsed without a siren to accompany it; likely it's source was parked right in the center of the trial. Now, on top of everything else, you had the burden of an unfamiliar landscape stacked against you. Wonderful.

You weren't the newest member of the fog, but you certainly weren't the best at anything either. Yet the speed you used to rip through this generator surprised you as you watched pistons fire to life. The match had barely started, there was no sign of Michael, yet adrenaline was already flooding your brain and propelling you towards escape like it never had before. Part of you had resigned, but when push came to shove, you weren’t ready to die.

After a few moments, you peeked around the corner of the generator again, almost smacking your face into Kate. You both backed up, and with a quick nod at each other she went to work alongside you on the machine, already halfway to completion. Another pair of eyes certainly couldn't hurt, and neither could the bulky toolbox she carried.

Careful not to let your mind wander too far, you found yourself worried about Laurie. You had no idea where she could be, but you couldn't in your minds eye see her running from Michael. The very idea of being in this trial with him had her frozen stiff. You didn't think she had it in her to comprehend her brother doing the horrible things you knew he was going to do this trial. Would her denial get her killed?

Kate's head poked above the machine to check your back, and you did the same with her, barely lifting out of your crouch enough for your view to clear the fence. At first, nothing. You nodded at your partner, and she lowered back to look at her work, revealing a hulking silhouette in the next yard over.

Your nostrils flared, eyes widened. He was still, illuminated only by the flashing blue and red lights that cast two different shadows on his face. In a blue flash he looked like Michael, the Michael you knew, withdrawn and quiet and unrelenting in his will to survive. Then it changed, and the red shone on his ruthless eyes and tight jaw. Each flicker warped the friend you knew into a killer and back again. You had stared for much too long. The strange thing, though, was that he did too.

“Run!” you hissed. Kate turned around, and without waiting to see her plan of action you snatched your medkit and took off. Around the corner and back through the opening you arrived at, out to the open street.

A scream rang out behind you. You pulled to an abrupt stop next to a large van, eyes blown wide at the realization of your cowardice. This wasn't like a normal trial, where inaction could be forgiven and amends could be made over the campfire when it was all over. You might have gotten Kate killed!

 _No,_ you reminded yourself. What Michael dropped in the offerings bowl was a transport offering, not a mori. He wouldn't be allowed to kill any of you so easily. But that only meant the trial would be drawn out, prolonging your exposure to your former friends cruelty. Even as strong as your urge to survive was, pushing you forward to the other side of the street, you prayed that you wouldn't be the last one alive. You didn't want to be the final step to his escape, you dreaded seeing the triumph on his face.

You moved towards the house right in front of you, a joyless jack-o-lantern sitting perched on the porch railing. Halloween. So this was a moment frozen in time, where the Entity dragged Michael and Laurie out of their home lives and into a never-ending cycle of death. The jack-o-lantern was crisply carved but had already seen too many days since its creation, the edges of a smiling mouth curling in on itself as it began to rot.

Kate screamed again as you entered the home, likely hanging on the hook you had seen next to the home. You knew you would have to turn around; even if you survived this guilt would drive you to madness. Swallowing the mass that was forming in your throat, you turned around and made to walk back out the doorway.

“Psst!” you whipped back around, catching a familiar face poking out from around the corner upstairs. Again you glanced at the door, and David clicked his tongue. “I’m gettin’ Kate, you get up ‘ere.”

You didn’t hear the generator until you were halfway up the stairs, indicating that it had just been started. You met your boyfriend at the top, briefly grabbing his hand and exchanging a squeeze before he went down the stairs and you entered the room he had just left. To your shock, Laurie was already here working. She seemed to have regained some of her color from earlier, but even from the door you saw the beads of sweat rolling down her forehead, the slight blanche to her skin. She looked at you and for once she did not smile; only showed you her gratefulness with her eyes. You wasted no time in getting to work.

It wasn't going as quickly without a toolbox but you were still making fast progress, the generator already halfway done when Kate's aura disappeared out of the corner of your eye. So David had saved her, which meant either Michael was over there after them, or he was scouring the trial looking for the both of you. Normally someone would wordlessly take the role of the distraction, keeping the killer away from everyone else so that generators could be finished. You saw nobody volunteering for that role tonight.

As you worked you let your eyes drift over the walls, noting something curious and unlike anything you had ever seen in a trial: Decoration. The jack-o-lantern was a personal, almost mocking touch you had never seen before, and while the narrow room you were in had no furniture, along the walls were picture frames. Most held smudged or outright destroyed photos, trapped behind broken glass. The few that were still recognizable were of a smiling, blonde-haired family.

"Laurie," you swallowed, moving your eyes back to hers. "Was this your house?"

Her face gave you the answer. You turned your eyes back to the wall, glancing at your work intermittently while you tried to make out the shapes from this distance. In one picture, two proud parents stood on the front porch of their home. On the steps leading up to the house sat a smiling teenage girl and a young boy. In another photo you saw that same boy, a bit older, holding a newborn in his arms and smiling. His hair was closer to platinum than the dusty blonde it had become, but there was no doubt in your mind that you knew who that was. Why, of all the memories these trials are birthed from, would the Entity chose to include these?

The generator coming from a chug to a roar startled you, Laurie having thrown the last mechanisms into place. You both stood at the same time, and you assessed your exit routes. A window to the left that led onto a sort of awning, and a window to the right that sent you straight into the backyard. Taking note of both, you poked your head outside the door to look down the stairs.

At the foot of the stairs stood...your heart jumped as you realized where your mind was headed. For the briefest of moments, you thought the killer standing below was your fellow survivor. But the surroundings, the circumstances, the freshly bloodied knife in his hands all reminded you of reality. He was still, not reacting even as you showed yourself, but you didn't wait to see what he would do next. You ducked back into the room to warn Laurie, but she was already making her way out onto the awning.

You couldn’t know if Michael wanted to get Laurie out of the way first or save her for last, but either way you weren't going to lead him to her. You turned and pulled yourself through the window on the opposite wall, sending you plummeting into a wispy bush that did nothing to break your fall. But once you collected yourself you were off in a sprint, no plan in mind and panic driving your every muscle.

You got onto the neighboring back porch as Michael hit the ground, taking the landing in stride much better than you. You dashed inside, casting one frantic glance to a set of basement stairs (Not THE basement, thankfully.) before choosing to run forward and pulling yourself out the front window. Halfway across the street the heartbeat started closing in on you, and too quickly. In a last ditch effort you turn and took the hood of an old car at an angle, a smooth hood slide that you would've been proud of in less dire circumstances.

But it wasn't enough. Your forward momentum kept him from getting a clean hold on your shirt, but instead his grab sent you sprawling onto the asphalt, gravel digging into your palms and cheek.

Before you could even try to recover, Michael fell and drove his knee between your shoulders, making you wince yet not scream. For as big as he was, knowing he could easily crush you with his weight alone he seemed to be lightening his force on you, enough to keep you pinned but not breaking your back. Why would he bother? The more he busted you up, the less you'd be able to run.

Unbeknownst to you, he was headed down that exact same train of thought. He was just smarter. More methodical. Michael had no worries about you running; he would catch you without doubt. His concern laid elsewhere.

Without warning his blade dug into the flesh of your left hand, splitting apart the skin from between your middle and ring finger all the way down past your wrist. The scream it drew rattled your vocal chords and scratched your throat but it garnered no reaction, no sympathy. With a quiet grunt he retracted the blade and brought it down again. This time it caught the muscle stretched from your thumb, a clean slice through the ligament around the curve of your hand. Again he pulled the knife back and you pulled your hand underneath yourself. His response was simply to toss his knife from one hand to the other. Michael brought the blade down directly in the middle of your right hand with enough force to puncture the flesh and even dig the tip into the road, sending vibrations through the knife that was like kerosene in the fire that your neurons were producing in response to his mutilation.  


_**THUNK.** _

  
Michael shifted suddenly on top of you as if he'd lost his balance, his hand jerking and sending another jolt of pain up your right arm. A second later, in the direction he had faltered you saw a mess of fleshy orange pulp hit the ground and spray everywhere. From the corner of your eye, strands of the gunk were hanging from Michael’s hair and stunned face.

“Get the fuck off of her!” Both of your heads swiveled towards the voice. In the middle of the street, his chest rising and falling with each breath, was your boyfriend. Through the sharp stench of your blood you caught a whiff of pumpkin, and you realized with a gulp what had just happened. David had come to your aid, winging the jack-o-lantern you had seen before and catching Michael right across the face. Attacking the Killer.

David had broken one of the rules.

You had only seen the rules broken once before. They were unspoken but strict, and you knew them all from the moment you awoke in this hell. No climbing onto roofs or in trees. No hiding for the entire trial. And perhaps the hardest to adhere to, no fighting back against the killer. That was the rule that you had come afoul to all that time ago, when you were too terrified to think of the consequences and took a swing at the Legion.

You weren’t as strong as a killer, but your attack had caught him off-guard, to the point of nearly throwing off his balance. For a moment you stared at each other, too stunned to make a move, as around you the air bristled with the Entity’s discontent. Low whispers surrounded you, coming from all around, and you heard the Legion take a deep, shuddering breath. Barely able to contain his excitement.

The trial had erupted into a bloodbath. The Legion was upon you in a heartbeat, knife digging into your flesh with ferocity, over and over, far past the point where you would have died otherwise. No, you didn’t lose your consciousness until near every drop of blood was drained and your wounds had your insides turned out on the snow.

As far as you could tell, when the rules of a trial were broken, all bets were off. Making this selfless act of heroism David thought he was committing a hell waiting to break lose.

The chill in the air became piercing, low growls echoed through the trial as all other ambient noise ceased in the same instant. Michael was frozen on top of you, same as the Legion had been, as though he struggled to process this transgression. You tried your best to turn and look at him from where he held you, and to your surprise his eyes were on you. But not his focus. You watched as his head tilted to the side, brow furrowing as the growling whispers grew louder and louder. As though the Entity's gibberish was speaking to him.

"Did you hear me?" David shouted, blind to the shift in the air, the weight of his actions. "I said get your fat ass offa her!"

Petrified, you watched as Michael's eyes came back into focus. And with a chilling slowness that dried your throat and upturned your stomach, Michael's face broke out in a rare, malevolent grin.

A scream ripped through you with the same sheer slice of his knife ripping itself out of your flesh. With another blur of motion it buried deep into your hand again. Not like earlier, where he had barely managed to scrap the tip beneath the asphalt, but buried deep as though slicing through butter. The amount of strength it would have taken...sweat was beading on your neck. The pain from your hands was more like an afterthought now; you could only think about the smile on Michael's lips. His sickening anticipation of what he would be allowed to do. There was no more need to sacrifice; he would kill and he would do it without prerequisites and without pause.

His fingers left the knife's handle and calmly rose to his face, combing pumpkin guts out of his hair and flicking it off to the side. David motioned towards himself with a grand wave of his arm.

"Well come on then! Let's 'ave it!" He had to have known he fucked up, right? David knew the rules the same as you, they were ingrained into his mind from the moment he arrived. Did he think they didn't apply to a trial as unique as this? Did he not care? "You oughta pick on someone your own size!"

Michael pushed his hair back with both hands, tucking it behind his ears so his face was open and visible. He turned back to David and you watched as the two made eye contact; David's fury loud and haughty, Michael's invisible to the untrained eye. In fact, Michael was still smiling.

With your head turned towards David you didn't see Michael's right hand move until it was threaded in your hair, taking hold and pulling. His knee fell off of you and left him at more of a straddle, freeing your back for him to pull you up off the ground and towards his chest. Your free hand flew up to grab onto his, but shredded it was of no use to ease the pain. You could only stretch into his hold to relieve it, even if it felt like your back was going to break. Eyes watering, you blubbered but couldn't bring any words to your lips.

Michael's warm breath closed in on your face. You flinched but could not get away, could do nothing but shake as Michael's tongue slid out of his mouth and brushed over your chin, dragging up the side of your face and leaving a warm, wet trail over your cheek. Eyes still on David. Taunting him. Daring him. And David took the dare.

"You MOTHERFUCKER!" David was already running at you, center of gravity low and ready to tackle Michael off of you. As suddenly as he grabbed you Michael relinquished his hold and let your cheek smack against the road, ripping his knife out and rising.

"David!" you cried. But it was over before you could blink. Michael held the blade underhanded and took one swipe across David's face, catching him in the jaw. A spray of blood washed over the street, David knocked clean off his feet and onto the ground. Your lungs seized and you screamed silently, trying to push yourself up on your ruined hands. David was still alive, twitching at Michael's feet. The larger man towered over David's prone body, admiring his work on the face of the blade. Then, to your shock, he stepped over David and continued down the street without another glance at either of you.

You didn't have the forethought to wonder about it. Just got to your feet and ran over to your boyfriend. It looked like half of his cheek was missing, a semi-Joker smile carved into his flesh and leaking his blood onto the street in a puddle below his face. Carefully, you linked your arm with his and pulled him up to sit. His recovery was slow, eyes glazed over as his brain worked through the sudden, overwhelming pain it had to process. But you couldn't linger; Michael could change his mind and turn back at any minute.

A lightbulb flashed over your head. Your medkit! When you ran from Michael you had left it in the top floor of the Myers' home, unused and full of the materials you would need to patch both of you up. You tugged on David's arm, your voice soft and still shaking from fear.

"Come on," you said, brushing his short hair off of his forehead. He nodded, rose with you and you both used each other's weight to keep yourselves up while you made your way towards the porch. The running generator upstairs made for the perfect noise cover as you sat David down against the wall and grabbed the kit.

"You'll have to help me first," you told him, cracking the kit open with your least affected fingers. Beyond the pain your hands were feeling numb and next to unusable. You understood now why Michael did it; without your hands you couldn’t do anything. "I won't be able to fix your face like this."

"Okay," he gargled. The visible clack of teeth and curl of his tongue from the window in his cheek turned the acid in your stomach, but you swallowed it down and pulled out an antiseptic agent. Pouring the solution over your hands burned, and felt pointless as infection was the least of your worries, but it removed the worst of the blood as well as cleaned the wounds enough for the bandages. That was taken care of by David, his dexterity making up for what you lacked. He wrapped your hands gently, shaking not in pain but in anger as he fastened the dressings together with a metal clip.

“Good?” You tested your hands, flexing your fingers and wincing through the pain. You couldn’t move the middle two fingers on your right hand, and your left thumb wasn’t moving the way you wanted it to, but it was manageable. With a nod, you switched roles and David sat back while you pulled the miniature surgical kit out and worked on threading the needle.

A scream made you both jump and the needle to fumble out of your hands and back into the kit. You exchanged looks. That sounded like Kate, and from how it cut abruptly short at the end, you could guess what had just happened. That didn’t bother you at first, until you remembered the ramifications of this trial. Kate would not be coming back, like she had so many times before when you heard that same scream.

Had death really become such an unfamiliar concept? A permanent end, something you should have faced yourself long ago yet had always been denied. You imagined yourself coming back to the campfire, not seeing her there. Of course, you wouldn’t make it that far, but to you the campfire was the sunrise; when all else went to shit you could always count on it. The idea that the staple that held your life together would never come again, for you and others, how could you even begin to cope with that?

You sniffled, trying desperately to hold yourself together as you retrieved and rethreaded the needle. What point was there to repairing yourselves? You wouldn’t survive another encounter with Michael.You had no idea why he had even walked away in the first place. On the ground at his feet were two easy kills, the halfway mark to his freedom. Why would he let that chance slip away? Of course, David's slight might have gotten to him more than he let on. He might simply want time to make David pay.

You pressed your lips together as you wove the thread through David's mangled cheek. Most of the skin was still there, hanging loosely, and you didn't have to pull too tight to stitch it together. David's eyes shut, his willpower reducing his pain to small winces and grunts. Showing more strength than you, whose face was still wet. Not just from tears, but from Mikey's...taunt? Insult? Mikey had never been the type to jeer; so why had he used you to get under David's skin when he proved he could easily do it himself?

You fought to keep your hands still as you sewed David's flesh back together, pausing every so often to allow him to spit the blood out of his mouth. You wiped the back of your hand across your cheek, most of the wetness coming off on your bandages. The longer you had time to think the more confused you got. You had never seen anything like that from Michael. You knew him to be blunt but not outright crass, impolite but not depraved. You had a hard time believing that a friend you sat around the campfire and socialized with for what felt like ages could do this, but you couldn't be sure that this was the Entity influencing him either. Mikey seemed like a person with a lot of secrets, you just never suspected the man hiding behind the silence would be...

"I'm done," you announced in a whisper, pulling the string tight and tying it off. The end result looked pitiful from your end, but it was the best you could do, and judging from how he moved his jaw to test it out it would suffice for your purposes. His fingers tentatively touched the wound as he met your eyes.

"What was that about?" he asked you. You gave him a hard stare, closing the medkit without worrying about organizing its contents.

"You broke a rule, and now its free game," you explained, "When a Killer breaks a rule, we get an instant escape from that trial. When a survivor does it, the killer gets free reign. No more sacrifices, no more games."

His eyes widened. "Shit, I forgot 'bout all that. So I fucked us, is what you're tellin' me."

"Pretty much."

Another scream rang out in the night, and this one made every hair on your arms and neck stand. You and David exchanged looks before you darted to the front window and poked your head out. Down the street and just past the crest of the white awning, Michael had Laurie's neck in his hands, her body pressed against the white work van with her toes reaching for purchase on the street. You could see her lips moving, but you didn't need to be able to hear to know that no words were getting out. He wouldn't even give her the option to beg for her life. Did that make it easier for him?

You pulled yourself out of the window before you could think better, ignoring David's grasp and standing to your full height. "Michael!"

Michael turned. You met his stare, eyes wide and wild and blood splattered in a thin line across his face. Laurie was still fighting his grip, trying to pull her weight up on his arm and gain leverage, but his strength was indomitable. You swallowed to wet your dry throat before opening your mouth again. "Let go of your sister!"

He dropped her instantly. She went past standing and fell straight to her knees, massaging the newly forming bruises on her neck as she coughed. Your heart soared a little bit. From this distance it was impossible to tell, but maybe...there could be something else in his eyes. Something that could be reasoned with.

"I know you want to get out of here!" you shouted, approaching the edge of the shallow slope until your toes poked over the edge of the awning. "But think about what you're doing! She's your sister, Mikey! Are you really going to kill--"

Michael seized Laurie by her hair and hauled her to her feet, rearing back and shoving her face first into the driver's side window. The glass shattered inwards, jagged edges slicing through her scalp as the rest rained down over her face. Your heart fell so deep in your stomach it felt like it was pumping bile into your veins. "...her..."

Michael's head cocked to the side, watching you for your reaction. You didn't have one to give him. You had seen so many horrors that the urge to scream, wince or even look away had long since been forced out of you. Now, you felt like you were going to go straight to passing out. But you couldn't, you would be given nothing resembling rest, so you could only stand and stare.

Laurie was still twitching, and so Michael forced her down lower, the spikes of broken glass digging into her neck and with brutal finality, Laurie's body went limp. Michael's hold loosened and Laurie's body fell slack against the van, her bloody face leaving a trail along the white paint until she hit the ground.

"The sick bastard," you heard David mutter from the window, in just as much disbelief as you. His own sister, the same one he had repeatedly died for since they came here, killed more violently than you could stomach. Your mind flickered over the image of him holding her as a newborn and your fists clenched by your sides.

"Babe." You turned around and saw David half in and half out the window, hand outstretched and his skeleton key balanced in his open palm. You took it with a puzzled expression, asking your question with your eyes. His face went rigid, defensive. "You need to find the 'atch. Get out of 'ere while I keep him distracted, and if you find it quick enough--" he interjected when he saw the panic on your face "--I'll be right behind you."

You wanted to argue but there'd be no use. There was no way you could get 3 generators done by yourselves, especially not with your loud mouth revealing your position to Michael. The only victory you could have now is if one of you escaped. Withholding the freedom that Michael had just murdered his own sister to achieve. You both knew that, and there was no use playing dumb, so you tightened your fingers around the key and nodded. "Okay, please be safe."

He reached his hand out, and you met it for a tight squeeze. David’s head swiveled around to face the doorway. “You gotta go now, ‘e’s coming. Go!”

Though you knew he wouldn’t see it, you blew your boyfriend one final kiss before turning and jumping off the roof. You turned in time to catch a glimpse of Michael walking up the stairs, but luckily it seemed that he didn't hear you. You turned and looked at the key again, unsure of where to even begin searching for the hatch. You hadn't even seen half of what this realm had, you couldn't know where it would appear. You could only run and hope you found it before...the worst. So you turned and took off along the side of the house, towards the brick wall that confined you. Outside of the backyard you could get a vague idea of how large the street was, glancing from one distant wall to the other, so you turned left and ran, dodging picnic tables and trees as you searched the ground for the single tile that would spell your freedom, and Michael's defeat.

You hit a corner and turned, running along the next wall. Crows parted in your wake, but you saw nothing along the ground. You had made it halfway across that wall when you finally heard David's scream. But when you turned towards the source of the sound, you saw David's aura hanging above the ground. He had hung David instead of immediately killing him...why?

The answer came to you instantly: Bait. He was your boyfriend; of course Michael would expect you to try and save him. And he wasn't wrong, the urge was overwhelming. Let David die for the chance to escape, or risk saving him and kill you both. You could die both ways, but only one left you both the chance, however slim, to survive. It made your heart physically ache in your chest to turn away and keep moving. You might not forgive yourself for letting David die, but David would never forgive you if you gave up your life to save him, and that burned you even more.

As you started along the third wall, you got close enough to David that you could hear him shouting obscenities. Michael must have been nearby for him to be so angry. You could see his thoughts as clear as your own; keep antagonizing the killer, give you more time to find the hatch first. You were close now, right behind the house that he was hanging in front of, when you finally realized an extra advantage you had on your side: the blood amber. You looked down at the key, holding it tight and channeling your energy through its unearthly metal.

Sure enough, Michael's aura lit up right next to Davids. You watched him pace back and forth, peeking behind cover as he searched for you, all while David continued to dig into him. Just as you thought, he was counting on you being too attached to David to even fathom leaving him behind. You let the aura fade away and continued to creep, making it to the next yard over only to see the last wall beyond the fence. You cut across the final yard as a shortcut, peeking over the fence at the corner just to make sure when David shouted louder than ever, loud enough for you to hear.

"Not gonna let that hatch out of your sight for a second, huh?!" The blood rushed out of your face. That wasn't for Michael; that was for you. The hatch was in the middle of the street, and David could see it. That had to mean Michael could too. The collapse that the Entity had recently implemented would mean you wouldn’t even have a stand off with Michael over the hatch, waiting for a lapse in his attention. He would shut it the instant it opened, and the amount of time it took to open the gate would be more than enough for him to zero in on you.

Just like earlier, you felt hot tears brimming over your eyelids and down your face. He had already won. He had practically already escaped. You sought for balance along the siding of the house but you fell to your knees anyway, fist pounding against the dirt and sending a shockwave of pain up your arm. Was it worth a shot? Would the cut of Michael's blade hurt less than the Entity's reaching claw ripping through you when time ran out?

You slowly pulled yourself to your feet, wiping your eyes dry and desperately trying to steel your wavering resolve. You had to try. If not for yourself, broken and more hopeless than you had ever felt before, you had to try for David. Still shaking you channeled the key's power again, watching as Michael circled David like a hungry shark. When he turned his back, you darted forward along the open street and crouched behind a car. Peeked again.

Michael hadn't seen you, but David had. Your eyes met, and you saw him give the briefest of nods before looking forward. The Entity didn't seem rushed for this sacrifice; its claws were only just beginning to sprout from the base of the hook. You crouched again and channeled once more, the prayer beads falling to dust in your bandaged palm.

You were running out of power, and you had to be conservative lest it crumble in your hands and you lost your only ticket to salvation. So you quickly looked, watching Michael's aura circle to the back of the hook and up the steps of the house.

"Think you've got yourself made? Think you're fuckin' set once you get out of this shithole, huh?" David was still trying to keep his attention to the last. You felt your eyes water again and firmly blinked it back. "You disappear with your sister and show up alone, what do you think's gonna 'appen then, huh?"

Once again you moved, in a speedy crouch from your cover to another car on the street. Checking to make sure you were out of sight, you ducked low and peeked. The sight you met made you retch, covering your mouth to prevent your whimper from getting out. You hadn't realized this was the same white van from earlier until you saw Laurie's corpse slumped on the pavement on the other side, blood still dribbling from the broken window and onto the ground by her hair. You shut your eyes and swallowed, pulling together your scattered thoughts. Focus. Escape.

You circled to the backside of the van, grabbing onto the bumper to steady your shaking legs and channeling the key. Michael was walking back out to the street, not towards you, but close enough to make you hold your breath and wait.

"You're gonna get out of this prison and get thrown right back into another!" Michael stopped in his tracks, turning to face David. Your next move was risky, but if David kept his attention you could make it. "And what if you don't get out at all? Think the Entity ain't above lying to you?"

You took your shot. Watching the back of Michael's head you darted across the street, safely making it behind the wheel of the police car. You released the breath you were holding and ducked again. There it was, right in the center of the street sat the trap door. You dropped to your stomach and crawled beneath the cruiser.

"Then what? Maybe you can live with yourself killing your sister to escape, 'cause you're a fucking monster, but what if you killed her for nothing?!"

You had to hurry. Michael might have seemed unbothered by David's ribbing but it would only be so long before he decided to stop wasting time and killed David himself. Freedom sat right in front of you, you needed only to reach out and grab it. So, with haste and the key in your outstretched hand, that's exactly what you did. The lock sat on the side closest to you, just close enough for you to reach out and stick the key in the opening.

"NO!" You jerked back in alarm, but not before a large work boot came cracking down on your wrist. The joint snapped, and you screamed loud enough to send crows in every direction flying to the sky in a wave of annoyed caws. You tried twitching your fingers, hoping luck would turn the key in its slot and unlock the door. It was no use; your hand was dead weight. Michael stepped back and reached down, grabbing you by the forearm and pulling. You tried grabbing hold of something, anything on the undercarriage of the car that would slow him down, but there was no fighting against his strength.

Michael had won. And you had lost.

He hauled you out and dropped you, and you flopped over onto your back. There it was: that triumphant smile you would have given anything not to see. You heard David struggling not far from you, trying to pull himself off the hook. Trying to save you. But you didn't deserve that. If you hadn't rushed, if you had checked one more time and waited for Michael to pass, you could have made it. Instead you dropped the ball at the most pivotal moment, made the wrong move at the apex of the trial, the turning point that would define everything. Checkmate. Game over. Your fault. All your fault.

So you closed your eyes and wheezed. "Kill me."

You waited. And waited. He was still there; you could sense his eyes on you, heard his breathing grow louder and heavier with the thrill of victory. Yet not making a move. Your heart pumped one more burst of adrenaline into your system, and you flipped over and reached for the key again.

That sparked a reaction. He grabbed onto the back of your shirt and lifted you off the ground, into a familiar hold over his shoulder. He turned and you shut your eyes, unwilling to look at your boyfriends hanging body. Not wanting to bear witness to his disappointment or, even worse, his sorrow.

You felt Michael shift, sliding off his shoulder and into free fall. Hitting the hood of a car when you expected the ground knocked the air from your chest, clutching your broken wrist to your chest. Blood poured from where the shards had dug through your skin, while the rest shifted and cut into your flesh from beneath.

“‘Ey! ‘EY, you fuckin’ coward!” David’s voice was growing hoarse yet he persisted. Didn’t he see it was over? “I’m the one who cuffed ya with rotten fruit! Leave ‘er alone, it’s me you want!”

“No.” You turned away, held your broken hand to your mouth and bit down on unfeeling fingers. How special this must have been to warrant Michael’s rarely heard voice. “I want her. I want you to _watch.”_

Getting tortured just for it to be the last thing David ever saw. You couldn’t dream of a worse fate, and your time spent in this realm had expanded your imagination vastly on the worst ways one could die. The tears started again and you couldn’t do anything but let them come, let your eyes shut, let your bottom lip quiver as sobs heaved from your chest. Michael grabbed your shoulder and pushed you back against the hood, circling around to where your legs hung off the side.

“Fuckin’ piece of shit coward!” When would the Entity intervene and spare David this sight? Had Michael made a deal with it somehow, to keep David alive long enough for him to get in his last laugh? “Too afraid of me? Gotta kill my lady because you can’t handle me?”

Michael’s eyes flickered up, and though you only saw one end of it you could feel the venom dripping from the eye contact he and David were sharing. You felt his grip close around your waist, and with a tug he pulled you to the edge of the hood. He slid between your legs; a position that made your eyes shoot open in alarm.

“What are you doing?” you gasped, rushing to sit up. He pushed you down by the shoulders again, never taking his eyes off of David. Panic ripped through you, and you started squirming against his hold, kicking your legs on either side of his waist. David’s jealous rants flashed across your mind, his insistence that Michael had some sort of crush on you and you were just blind to it. No fucking way. This wasn’t happening. This was not happening.

“Wait a minute,” you stammered. Michael shifted his body over yours, his thick hair creating a curtain that shielded both of your faces from David’s view and filled your nostrils with the stench of pumpkin. Dilated eyes and heavy breath, tongue ghosting over his upper lip, he eyed you like a starving animal eyes a meal. “Please don’t. Michael please--”

“I like when you say my name.”

“No no no,” you croaked, turning your head away as he closed in on you. You felt him again, exhaling over your cheek before his lips met the corner of your jaw. “Stop, STOP!”

“What are you doing?!” David bellowed. But that was outside of Michael’s sphere; his focus now lay entirely with you. He dragged his lips along your jawline, up your cheeks and to the corner of your mouth. He grabbed your jaw and forced you to face him, and as he lips pressed to yours you opened your mouth and screamed. Michael sighed and calmly leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Behave.” He started to retreat, and you gathered your saliva and spat. The glob hit the corner of his mouth, and knowing you had signed your own death warrant you gloated at his miniscule flinch, the flash of rage that spread across his face. But as soon as it reared its head it was gone, and the gaze Michael met you with as he rose to his full height and wiped his thumb across his lips could only be described as cold.

His fingertips dwelled on the hood as he circled around it again, making you flip onto your stomach to follow with your eyes. When you realized he was approaching a furious, incoherently shouting David, you felt your insides twist.

“Wait,” you begged, all your feist melting into helplessness. You reached out to him. “Don’t do anything to him, I’ll--you can--”

Your words cracked and wavered under the weight they carried. Their figures blurred behind a wall of tears. You blinked it away just in time to see Michael reach up and grab David by the jaw, sticking his fingers in David’s mouth.

“NOOO!” You shut your eyes, but it was over too fast for you to deny him witness. The stitches ripped apart, his other cheek torn through like paper and his mouth hanging open at a grotesque angle before Michael ripped the bone off entirely. His tongue flopped out and laid flat against his neck, twitching as he tried to scream through the gargling pit of blood left where his mouth used to be.

In a bid to distract yourself from the horror, you slammed your broken wrist against the hood and cried out at the pain it gave you. But it was bliss compared to the agony in your heart. You would break every bone in your body to remove the sight of David’s mangled face. But it was no use. It was now imprinted on the underside of your eyelids, there to torment you until your quickly approaching death.

Thick fingers wove their way into your hair again, tugging on your abused scalp and forcing your head out of your hands and towards the sky. You felt something wriggle between your lips and prod at your teeth, bringing with it the taste of iron. You opened your mouth only to bite down on Michael’s bloody fingers with all the strength you could muster.

You didn’t so much as break the skin. Michael’s digits writhed in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and forcing you to taste. When he was satisfied, he pulled them out and wiped the mix of blood and spit across your cheeks. And he kissed you.

You didn’t bite, didn’t scream or squirm away. Fighting against only reminded you of how powerless you felt, and Michael had no limits to how far he’d go to punish you how he saw fit. There was a part of you that held the inevitable feeling of "how much worse could this be?" But you could easily reason that the answer was "very."

You felt him hook his fingers beneath the waistband of your sweatpants and start tugging them down your legs. He didn't bother coercing you into undressing, he had no problem handling you like a ragdoll as he pulled your pants and underwear off, all without breaking your kiss. The fingers that brushed against your lips were still slick with blood, circling around your clit and between your folds before diving inside of you in one fluid motion.

You sucked breath in through your nose, whimpering against Michael's lips. You felt him smile, pull his hand upwards and lift your lower half off the car with his fingers alone. The pressure against your insides flared up along the front of your walls and up into your stomach, and again he smiled at the pained noises he was able to draw out of you. He dropped you back down and began to move, wrapping one hand around your neck and lightly squeezing while the other explored your inner walls with two fingers, pressed deep and spreading you open.

Trying to focus on something else wasn't working, because all your mind wanted to go back to was the fact that you hadn't heard the Entity claim David, meaning he was still alive to watch all this. With any luck you could hope he was at least unconscious, but what point was there in hoping? Had luck been on your side at all today?

And Michael, the sick fuck, that was what he wanted all along. When he stepped over David, sparing you both in the street, it was with this moment in mind. You beneath him, your body open to his will, and David forced to watch, physically unable to stop it. Was it presumptuous to assume that this might’ve been his plan all along?

Michael flipped you over onto your stomach, his fingers sliding out of you. They came to hover in front of your face, coated in your fluids with a thin strand stretched between his index and middle, all tinted the slightest shade of pink from the blood still caked beneath his fingernails and on the rest of his hand. You focused your sight beyond his hand and saw David hanging, barely holding on to life. You couldn't tell from here, but to you his blank stare and shallow breaths looked like he had become too woozy from blood loss to process anything.

Bringing his hand back, Michael flipped you onto your back again. You closed your eyes but he quickly coaxed them open with a firm grasp of your hair. The first sight you were greeted with was Michael’s tongue running over his soaked fingers, licking away essence off with delight spelled all over his features. Finishing with a satisfied pop of his lips, you watched his hand retreat downward to grab the zipper of his jumpsuit. He tugged it down and shrugged the sleeves off of his shoulders with little patience. You noted with a wave of disgust that the black t shirt he wore beneath still held the uneven hem that had resulted of his makeshift bandage. That was from the last trial, not just with him but at all. Everything had gone to hell so quickly it made your head spin.

His overalls had shifted past his hips just enough to reveal the waistband of his boxer briefs. His bulge was prominent through the thin blue fabric, and as if seeing it wasn't enough he rubbed it between your folds to give you a feel for his size. Though he demanded your attention you couldn't stop yourself from turning away when he hooked his thumb beneath the elastic, shaky breaths giving way to panic and wheezing gulps of air that only filled a quarter of your lungs before being forced out of your nose in a whistle. His shuffling filled you with dread, and you waited to feel the warmth of his cock come to rest between your lips, or slam inside you without warning. Instead, Michael wrapped a hand around your throat and dragged you down and off the car.

Your knees hit the road hard, pebbles and cracks in the road digging into your skin. The sight you were greeted with was Michael leaning casually against the car, stroking himself idly while his opposite hand tapped fingers on the hood. His look was expectant, and for a moment you got the idea to try for the hatch again. But even moving to get off your knees got a hand wrapped in your hair, pulling you to him and pressing your face right against his skin. His treasure trail tickled your skin, a thick musk of blood and testosterone filling your nose and his cock brushing over your left cheek. You shuddered, pressing your hands against his hips and pulling back to level your lips with the tip of his cock. Precum leaked out of his slit, drops running over his head and down his shaft.

He didn't seem to mind you closing your eyes for this part. You enveloped the head of his cock, tongue sliding out and licking him clean. He rested his hand on the back of your head, content to let you go at your own pace and eagerly following along. Then, his other hand fell off the car and joined the first, thumbs cradling your temples lovingly. Every growl, every pleasured twitch inside your lips sent shudders down your back.

You tried to pull back and catch your breath, and for the first time Michael took his cue, pushing you forward until you were once again flush with his hips. Your throat bulged around his cock, eyes flying open as you tried to fill your empty lungs. Michael's head had fallen back, hips rolling forward and too lost in pleasure to mind your struggles. You beat your fists on his stomach, trying to push away until your eyesight began to tunnel and your limbs lost the energy to function. Blackness had consumed you entirely, your body just starting to go entirely limp when he finally pulled you off of him, your lungs inflating as you took a deep, instinctual gasp.

Letting you go, you had no strength to hold yourself up and fell at his feet. Your entire body ached, inside and out. You felt as though you had been drained of everything except the capacity to feel pain. Your faculties had barely returned to you when he grabbed hold of your shirt, lifting you again and throwing you over the hood with little care. The force slammed your nose right onto the surface, blood gushing out and over your lips, as well as create a foreign pebble in your mouth that you quickly realized was a tooth. One you spit out in shock as Michael slammed into you without warning.

Too broken to scream, the only protest you could manage was a loud whine and more hot tears falling onto the car's hood. Michael rolled his hips inside of you, head of his cock kissing your cervix before falling away and rubbing against it again. As he pulled back, you heard and felt the supersonic boom that the Entity so often released. David had finally been claimed. Never did you think your boyfriends permanent death would've been seen as a relief. Michael lowered himself over your body, planting a tender and affectionate kiss on your cheek. You wanted to be angry, or at least hurt, but you had been rung dry. The pain screamed over everything else until it all felt like nothing. Your entire world was Michael.

He slid back inside of you, one hand wrapped around your hip while the other slid up and down your torso, beneath your bra where he could knead your breasts, send goosebumps up and down your stomach in his wake. Rather than launch into a fast and brutal pace, his brand of torture involved dragging out each slow push inside of you, his hips rocking against you with each thrust. He'd push your stomach up, pull you closer to squeeze every ounce of pleasure he could out of each dive inside of your body. You found your breaths following his pattern, slow inhales and heavy, drawn out exhales. Your hysterics were dying down in the lull, and you almost found yourself zoning out from everything entirely, if not for his soft growls against your cheek. Endlessly stuck on how pleased he sounded with himself.

Mikey's breath hitched and suddenly his pace all but doubled, no doubt seeking release inside of you. Your legs trembled, insides going rotten at the idea of his cum dripping out of you. As disturbed as the thought was you hoped you wouldn't live to see it, hoped his grand display of power and ultimate control ended with him ripping your head off your shoulders as he came, putting your suffering to an end without having to spend a second in the afterglow of it all. But in that strange category of blessing, you saw no such luck. His orgasm came quietly, no indication that it had happened at all save for his body pressed flush against you and a deep sigh into your ear.

Then he pulled out, and you felt it. A single bead of warmth dribbling between your folds and down your inner thigh. That final nail in the coffin of your dignity made your heart seize, and finally the flood of emotion hit you like a freight train, pathetic and wretched, edging into purely vile. Somehow on his first try Michael had mastered the fate worse than death.

Once he readjusted himself his hand came back to your face, wiping stray hairs away from your eyes and wet cheeks. You looked up at him as he pulled away, wet red lips twitching as they fought to keep back the fullness of your crying.

"Now?" you croaked. He tilted his head to the side. You swallowed a mouthful of saliva and blood. "What now, motherfucker?"

His eyes traveled up, and for the first time you became aware of the empty vacuum of noise that spilled out of the hatch. Of course it would have opened with David's death, and though it was tauntingly close you hadn't noticed its presence until now. You got the sense Michael's eyes were on it now, and your brow furrowed. "If you let me go, you lose."

It felt like suicide stating that fact to him. But you couldn't think of anything you wanted more. He didn't respond, grabbing you by your shirt and hauling you over his shoulder. This time with the bruises littering your body, you hissed and groaned at each jostle sent through you when he stepped. The yawning void drew closer, and your veins filled with liquid fire as rage consumed you. "Don't throw me back, you asshole! Fucking KILL ME!"

You started to fall forward, but just when you felt your weight shift into freefall he caught you again, hugging you against his chest with his face inches from yours. The look he gave you was repulsive, doting eyes and lips that smiled sincerely before they said with the flatness of stating a simple fact: “Mine.”

And you fell.

The empty void that the hatch suspended you in while it transported you from the trial to the campfire was not a comfort. It was only a time to lament, to curse Michael Myers for not granting you the death you so desperately wanted, now more than ever. But it was never so easy. You obviously had not suffered enough. You would remain in this godforsaken hellscape until the Entity drained you of every last bit of emotion you had. You would've thought before this trial that it was already close to accomplishing that goal. But of course not; now you had been introduced to a whole new plane of suffering.

Having failed, would he come back as a killer or a survivor? It didn't matter. With David out of the way there would be nobody stopping him from taking what he wanted, whenever he wanted. Sacrifice and murder would mean nothing to you anymore; you would only dread the sight of his face, knowing what would follow. The feeling of your body undoing the damage he had caused sickened you, from your ruined clothes readjusting to the bones in your wrist coming together again as if never broken. In the dead air around you the Entity's gurgle was like mocking laughter, titters that drove home just how doomed you were. Light began to crest from a distant horizon in a directionless space, so you shut your eyes and prepared to arrive back at the campfire.

Voices were already going wild when you entered, and they only grew to a crescendo as you hit the ground. You knew you looked a sight; even with the Entity having the courtesy to redress you, your clothes were ripped and soiled with blood. But you supposed that wouldn't matter so much as the fact that you were alive at all. You opened your eyes, and right in front of you were a pair of boots that gave you pause. You...had escaped. You didn't die. But the figure that knelt in front of you, the one you brought your head back to see...was David.

"Come here." You dove into his arms without hesitation, dry heaving into his shoulder with no more tears left to cry. The short-circuiting in your brain was intense enough to hit you with a massive headache. His comfort, his warmth, you had resigned to losing it forever. To have it now when you needed it most, you couldn't confine that feeling to mere words.

"I thought," you swallowed, trying again, "I thought--"

"So did I," he said. He was beyond his characteristic rage, all of it had melted into a strange limbo between pain and relief. "Far as I can tell, breaking the rules of the trial also broke the agreement. Kate n' Laurie are here too."

You looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, the two blondes were sitting among the group around the campfire. Both shaken, but alive. You caught the stares of several other survivors before they turned away, but you couldn't be bothered. You had David. Despite Michael's best attempt, you still had him.

“You didn’t talk--”

“No.”

You welcomed his tight squeeze, his face burying deep into your shoulder. You couldn’t speak for him, but you imagined it was one of the more traumatic things he’d experienced since coming here. And for you, it was without question. It would need to be discussed eventually, but for now you were content to leave all of that on the table.

"So we won?" you asked, pulling back to look at his face. The image of his mutilated jaw crossed your mind, and you swallowed it down like a bad dream.

"Wouldn't say that." David might not, but you would. You already knew it was never Michael's intention to escape, but now he hadn't even accomplished what he had tried to. Nobody had died. Like always, like the campfire or the sunrise, you would all be there to see another day. It may not be a win to everyone, but to you it was a bittersweet, bloody victory.

But there was one question left unanswered, and it was enough to tear you out of David's vice grip and look him in the eyes. "And Michael?"

David turned around, but as you both looked the survivor circle still seemed to be one man down. You turned first to look to where the killers resided, and almost jumped out of your skin.

He was there. Still a murderer, still with bloody knife in hand, clutching at the Entity's lattice barrier of chitin. His chest visibly rose and sank with each breath, teeth bared and clenched, eyes wide and frenzied. Positively seething at the sight of you in David's arms. The glare he had leveled on you crawled beneath your skin in ways that not even the most brutal of killers had.

But there was another part of you, the newly reinvigorated will to survive, that drove you to smile. Clutch tighter to your boyfriend and relish in the fact that you still had him. Michael obviously hadn’t counted on that. Luxuriating in the ability to exert his cruelty over you in ways he never would have been able to otherwise, not considering for a second that it worked against him the whole time. David’s attack had saved his life. More than that, it had saved all of you.

You weren't Michael’s. You never would be. He had lost his chance to take away all that you had. Now you knew that you were not the laughingstock that had the Entity so amused. The joke was his certainty, his overconfidence. The joke was on him now. Michael huffed and whipped away, stomping back to his new campfire.

You’d just have to wait and see how long this victory would last.

**Author's Note:**

> So this turned into a completely different project from beginning to end, but I'm proud of it B]
> 
> I'm still kind of posting @skullfuggery on tumblr haha :')


End file.
